


Her Mother's Vallaslin

by branwen lavellan (Revasnaslan)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2019-09-06 19:41:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16839115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Revasnaslan/pseuds/branwen%20lavellan
Summary: Branwen is curious about her mother's choice in vallaslin.





	Her Mother's Vallaslin

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted on dec 03 2018.

Her mother wore Falon’Din’s _vallaslin_. She could vividly remember how the deep purple markings stood out against her mother’s darker complexion, thin wisps of color along the bridge of her nose, her forehead, and around her mouth and cheeks. They reminded her of smoke, or perhaps leafless branches, and the coloration of her mother’s tattoos was the basis for the coloration of her own, when she received them down the line. Why her mother had chosen Falon’Din’s _vallaslin_ , however, was a mystery. With her father, it was easy. He was one of the head craftsmen of the clan. It made sense that he would wear the _vallaslin_ of June. Her grandmother’s reasoning was also easy to figure out. Though she had been born a city elf, she was as protective of the clan as she was of the da’len. Mythal suited her very well.

But her mother was more difficult—Branwen often struggled to understand her mother’s reasoning for things, but she had been young at the time and still learning. Branwen though her mother could’ve easily fit Mythal, as she was a caring mother and protected her clan with as much spirit as Branwen’s grandmother did. Her mother could’ve also fit Dirthamen, as she took care of secrets entrusted to her, and was very wise and knowledgeable for someone so young—or so Branwen had heard Keeper Deshanna say during one of their magic lessons.

The reasoning behind her mother’s _vallaslin_ was something that had piqued little seven-year-old Branwen’s already insatiable curiosity.

“ _Mamae_? Why Falon’Din?” she had asked one quiet afternoon. The clan had just set up camp, and she sat in front of her mother while her mother braided her hair.

Her mother had looked vaguely surprised by the question, as if nobody had asked before. “Because, _da’revas_ ,” her mother had said, “I wanted to thank Falon’Din for guiding all those who died before me into death, including my parents. They died when I wasn’t much older than you are now… they also serve as a reminder.”

Branwen had tilted her head then, ears perking up. “A reminder, _Mamae_?” she had inquired, and her mother had given a faint—if a touch sad—smile, but her hands never paused in their task of braiding Branwen’s hair.

“They wanted me to live, _de’revas_ ,” her mother had said simply, and the conversation had dropped after that.

Five years later, Branwen remembered her mothers words, but they didn’t soften the blow of her mother’s death so much as dig the knife in deeper. She mourned for months, wondering why Falon’Din had taken her mother away from her when her mother had honored him for his service guiding the dead, especially so soon after the death of her brother.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: [revasnaslan](http://revasnaslan.tumblr.com/)  
> twitter: [revasnaslan](https://twitter.com/revasnaslan)


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